


Empty Pillow Talk

by Sybariticfanfiction (SybariticReyna)



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Fluff, Marriage Proposal, Multi, Sharing Body Heat, Skyrim Civil War, Skyrim Main Quest, Spoilers, Ulfric tries his best, Vague marriage proposals at least, listen guys I've got some headcanons, they/them pronouns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-31
Updated: 2016-07-31
Packaged: 2018-07-28 08:57:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7633996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SybariticReyna/pseuds/Sybariticfanfiction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neither the Dragonborn nor Jarl of Windhelm really know how to date but they try their best to make it work between political duties and dragon slaying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Empty Pillow Talk

**Author's Note:**

> Who knew today would be the day I threw myself into Skyrim loving hell. 
> 
> Not me. 
> 
> Why the hell can you sleep in Ulfric's bed anyway? Is that a glitch? ? I mean, I'm not complaining, but damn. 
> 
> Dovahkiin's name/race/gender are pretty ambiguous but they do use they/them pronouns! if that ain't your thing then whatever. You do you. 
> 
> It's sort of implied that the Dovahkiin is from 'our world' but you can imagine what you'd like tbh. This could be a reader instert if you wanna view it as such or they could be your own Dragonborn. 
> 
> (Title is from If These Sheets Were States bc idk I'm really feelin it. ''This rooms become a mausoleum filled with relics of regret, paying dues to every moment wasted on words left unsaid / collisions of a finer love, I'd kill for one more way to tell you how you make me better every day")

The Dragonborn knows _this_ is not how its supposed to be. They don't know what it should be though, so maybe its okay. Maybe its okay to fall into Ulfric's bed as if its just common curtesy for the Jarl to share his bed, and maybe its okay to steal kisses between war meetings and reports.

Ulfric doesn't really seem to have a problem with it, after all. He says their name, not _Dragonborn_ or _Stormblade_ , but their name like its holy. His kisses are careful, _slow_ , acting like they've all the time in the world for whatever it is they have.

_Dating?_ Some part of them supplies, adding an unnecessary amount of mental questions marks.

_Dating isn't really a thing in Skyrim_ , they argue. They aren't really sure where dating is a thing, but that's to be expected. They don't really remember much of anything before Helgen. They know they couldn't have been from any known land, from the accent they've tried very hard to get rid of to the phrases that pop out of their mouth.

_Unconventional_ , is the only word they can come up with for both their origins and their relationship with Ulfric (abnormal would also work, but that sounds mean).

So it makes sense after "speaking" with Alduin and fighting the dragon he brought up only to have _another_ dragon appear seemingly out of no where, instead of going back with Delphine, they drag themself over to Windhelm and collapse in Ulfric's bed.

They throw all their gear on the floor before doing so, pealing off blood and snow soaked armor. The noise is enough to wake Ulfric up, but they can hardly breathe with how cold they are, let alone care if Ulfric sees them undress. They throw one of his undershirts before crawling into bed, trying to maintain some level of decency.

"I hate dragons." They say matter-of-factly, pressing cold hands against his sides. His muscles tense under their palms and they almost laugh. "I hate dragons and the cold, and fighting dragons in the cold."

Ulfric mumbles a curse in reply. "Must you do that?" He asks, words slurred with sleep.

Their laughter makes him smile even as they taunt, "You're a Nord. I think you can handle it."

"Mmm." He hums, moving to scrap their hands off him. They nearly whine at the loss until he pulls them closer, chest to chest, throwing one leg over their hips and effectively caging them. "Better?"

"Much. Especially because its you," They agree. "...Kynesgrove needs more guards."

Ulfric doesn't sound surprised by the sudden change between mushy feelings and business, only asking, "What happened?"

"The dragon that saved our lives in Helgen. Its-- his name is Alduin. He's why the dragons have been coming back. They haven't just appeared or repopulated, they've been brought back." The shudder that rakes their frame has nothing to do with temperature, but Ulfric pulls the furs closer against them anyway.

"Alduin." He breathes, seeming to understand instantly. "The prophecy is coming true then."

Something from _before_ bristles at that, but they brush it off. There's no use scratching that wall, not right now. "I have to kill him."

"Yes." Ulfric agrees, his voice hard. "The world eater must be stopped. But not right now." He punctuates that statement with a kiss that lands on their nose.

They try to keep the laughter quiet, wondering if Ulfric had overestimated their size. It wouldn't be the first time he's done so, despite making jokes about how _small_ the great Dragonborn is on a regular basis.

"What should I be doing right now?" They prompt, uncurling one arm to reach up for his face. They don't miss his lips, although the feather light touch hardly counts as a kiss.

"Either sleeping or kissing your Jarl." He says it unaffectedly, as if he truly doesn't have a preference. They call bullshit.

" _My_ Jarl." They repeat, emphasis on the possessive pronoun. _You're mine_.

They don't say the last bit out loud, but Ulfric seems to catch it anyway. "I am yours." He agrees. His kiss is the same as ever, the movements almost excruciatingly unrushed. Even when they whine and tangle their fingers in his hair, he remains completely at ease, one hand _slowly_ feeling its way down their side, stopping at their hip.

They part only to breathe, both immediately trying to kiss each others cheeks. They smile and duck their head, instead pressing hurried kisses to his neck. Ulfric's breathless laughter is worth much more than a few more kisses, after all.

"We have all night." He teases.

They scoff, "We both have work in the morning." The words are hot against his neck, and they very smugly note he shivers at the sensation. They apologize with an open mouthed kiss, sucking until they're sure there's going to be a very pretty mark. It's a shame its too dark to see it.

"Don't leave a mark." Ulfric orders, although its hard to take him seriously when he sounds so wrecked.

"Too late." They lave the mark affectionately, "I'll only do one though, if its any consolation."

"Galmar will have a field day."

"Trying to guess your oh-so-secret lover's identity, or just because you've got a hickey?" They wonder, bringing their hand up to summon a Magelight.

Ulfric blinks at the sudden light, glancing over at them curiously.

They shrug, "Wanted to see you." Their pupils are slit, tiny diamonds against fiery irises. That will fade, he knows, but its still a very real reminder of their _Dragonborn_ status. He sometimes wonders if there's more to it than they tell even him, but they always downplay his worries. It's fine, they say. It's just the dragon soul settling in.

"You're making that face again." They say, moving to press their nose against his.

He resists the urge to roll his eyes. "Aren't I always?"

Their lips twist into what could've been a smile if not for the worry in their eyes. "You smile sometimes."

"Don't tell the general public." He responds. "I have a reputation to uphold."

They snort. "Oh, I'm sorry, my king. I'll make sure to keep your smiling on the down low. You still didn't answer my question though. Does Galmar...?"

"Know about us?" Ulfric finishes, gifting them with an honest smile. "He's alluded to having suspicions, and if he doesn't, he will when you're named co-ruler."

"He will. That sounds ominous." They laugh.

"You're the only one who can make a proposal sound ominous, my dear." The endearment is half mocking, like every other time Ulfric has attempted pet names, but they don't really mind.

"A... Oh." Their face lights up in realization, and Ulfric swears something in his chest breaks. It's not a feeling of clicking into place like those trashy romance novels they leave in his bookshelves say, it's a break, one grows back stronger.

"Oh, Ulfric," They laugh, hands flying to cradle his face, "You're horrible at courting."

He makes a half hearted attempt to replicate their accent, "It takes one to know one."

Their laughter this time is not anywhere near quiet, but neither can find the will to try and keep quiet. The light dies down as they try to catch their breath, leaving them once again in darkness. "Oh my god, that was so bad!" They exclaim. "You're the worst. The absolute worst."

"So you've told me." He responds.

They continue on as if he didn't say anything, now peppering his face with kisses. "I'm in love with a nerd who can't even get my accent right, and proposes in such a roundabout way I'm not sure it even counts."

"It counts."

"You know what?" They hum, stopping mid kiss to look him in the eyes. The natural light barely leaves enough to get an outline, but their eyes are bright and easily distinguishable. "I'm going to propose to you properly. I'm gonna get a ring a get down on one knee and we're going to have a weird modge-podge wedding of my home and yours, okay?"

Ulfric raises an eyebrow. "Are we now? And what are weddings like where you're from?"

"I... I don't know? I mean, I know what it should feel like, and that the wedding outfits here are wrong but I don't know what should be. I guess we'll just have to figure it out as we go."

"When have you ever been to a Skyrim wedding?"

"I've been to one in Riften, two of my Guild members, and the one in Solitude. The latter was pretty messed up though." They don't mention they were the one to shove the statue onto the bride, for obvious reasons.

"Why were you there?" He asks.

"I knew the bride, and Thane's were automatically invited." They shrug. "I didn't think it would end in a murder. We won't have to worry about that though. We'll just Shout 'em out."

Ulfric kisses their forehead this time, an unspoken promise.

"I love you." The words come unbidden, but they don't regret it for a second. "I love you." They repeat more definitively.

"I love you," He says it quietly, as if talking too loud would ruin the moment.

(As it turns out, the moment is ruined by a guard barging in, yelling about a dragon spotted to the west. The Dragonborn is up in an instant, pulling on their General's outfit and throwing out orders to gets all citizens off the street and guards to ready their bows. Ulfric lets them handle it, simply admiring how perfectly suited they are for being his co-ruler)

The next time they're reunited, the Dragonborn looks nothing like the Dragonborn. They're done up in some frilly outfit befitting of an heiress, hair pinned back and eyes lined expertly in kohl. Ulfric doesn't have the time to take in the rare sight before they're making a sharp motion towards the war room, holding up a journal of some kind.

He joins them as soon has he's able, finding Galmar looking down at the journal disdainfully as the Dragonborn painstakingly removes an abundance of pins from their hair.

"The Thalmor have notes detailing your assets and I'm Upset." They say in greeting.

Galmar snorts in amusement. "It's a bit more than that, but I can see why you'd be irritable. Look at this," He holds out the journal to the bewildered Jarl.

Ulfric simply blinks, raising one eyebrow. "The Thalmor?"

"The Thalmor Embassy had a party up in the mountains and someone who shall remain unnamed broke in, freed their torture victim, and made off all the records their sticky hands landed on. Imagine my surprise when your name came up." They elaborate as Ulfric looks over the notes. Nothing he hadn't already expected, but nonetheless good to have confirmed.

"This is reason for war." Galmar says. "They admit to trying to weaken Skyrim."

"They also confirmed they have no idea what's going on with the dragons, but golly do they want me dead." Dovahkiin adds, yawning tiredly. They run a hand through their hair, checking to see all the pins are out before beginning the process of wiping the make up off. "Fucking nobility parties."

Galmar casts them a fond look at that, "Don't know how you got in with that mouth."

"I can be nice." They argue. "Sides, acting like they're so cool is enough to get me off the hook." They adopt a surprisingly convincing accent and make their voice breathier, "Oh, I've heard so much about you! It's such an honor!" They drop the act with a scowl, holding a hand out towards Ulfric. "Help."

He helps them remove the make up while making plans with Galmar, finalizing the steps to building up a now completely necessary army against the Thalmor. The Dragonborn seems uninterested at best, instead seeming to be making their own plans. Killing Alduin is still number one priority for them after all.

"So." Galmar says when all is said and done, glancing between the two of them with a look on his face that makes Ulfric want to punch something. He's obnoxiously smug for someone who had no part in their getting together.

The Dragonborn glances over at him curiously, "What?"

"What's this?" He asks, now making a motion to their proximity.

They once again prove they can be quite the actor, tilting their face in mock confusion, eyebrows furrowing. "What's what, Galmar? Doesn't Ulfric do all his General's make up?" It's the smile that gives them away, and Galmar's booming laugh no doubt grabs the attention of several castle goers.

"Aye, I see what you're doing." He says, shaking his head. "So when's the wedding?"

Of course that's what he jumps to.

Their answering laugh is quiet, half muffled when they lean into Ulfric to hide. He doesn't reach out, doesn't kiss the top of their head like he wants to, instead deciding to save that for when they're alone. The way he looks at them in confirmation enough for Galmar though.

"I would prefer waiting until after this war is finished with." Ulfric says. "It would be... Unfortunate for either of us to be widowed so quickly."

Galmar is shaking his head before he even finishes explaining, obviously very displeased by this decision. "That's why you should marry. You can't be putting your life on hold for a war. There's always war."

"There's not always a world eating dragon." They mumble.

Galmar looks at them for a second, eyes narrowing. He either didn't hear or doesn't understand. Brushing it off, he continues, "It would up morale too. You know we all want to see you happy."

"Sap." They speak louder this time.

The glare he sends is scalding, but they don't bother to lift their head in order to see it. "Can we talk about this later? I'm tired and I have to ride to Riften in a few hours." Before the Thalmor realize what's happened and try to find him themselves.

Ulfric, always one for dramatic gestures, sweeps them off their feet in an instant, ordering, "Galmar, I trust you and Jorleif can handle things for a while."

Their laughter follows them throughout the castle, only ceasing when Ulfric lays them down.

"You're lovely." They tell him. They say it so matter of fact, there's no room for arguments that future High King of Skyrim could be anything but 'lovely'. No one of import would dare argue with the Dragonborn anyway. Their kiss is sugary sweet, tasting of spiced wine and sweet cakes. "Come here. I need to get my fill of kisses before Riften."


End file.
